I Finally Did A Bodybuilding Competition
A First-Timer's Perspective
Firstly, telling someone [anyone] that I was in any way involved with a bodybuilding competition will always feel inherently imposter-syndromy.
There's a distinct visual — a preconceived notion of what a bodybuilder looks like — in virtually everyone's mind, and to say I (and most competitors) don't fit that aesthetic is an understatement.
So before I even get into the nitty-gritty of my experience, I should first explain the obvious: what I competed in was a “natural” competition. I.E. the competition advertises that they test competitors before and after to confirm that no one on stage was or is using steroids, P.E.D.s, diuretics, etc. that would affect their look in the competition.
Because, whatever your concept of a bodybuilder might look like, you're almost certainly picturing a version that’s on steroids. Virtually anytime you see someone that looks abnormally jacked/ripped/shredded, you can safely assume drugs were involved. I'm sure some competitors would take offense to this statement: but bodybuilding, almost by definition in the modern vernacular, implies the use of Performance Enhancing Drugs, unless explicitly stating otherwise.
So competing in a show that advertises itself as “natural” is paramount if you don't want to stand shoulder to shoulder with folks who look like supernaturally muscular monsters. With that understanding, you might hopefully have a better conception of what to expect when thinking of a bodybuilding show; relatively normal looking folks with their clothes on, who have noticeable muscularity or definition (preferably both) and are capable of manipulating their bodies to create a specific aesthetic for periods of time.
I never really had any sort of desire or dream to compete in bodybuilding. It doesn't fall into the same category as writing, filmmaking, songwriting, professional wrestling, etc. where it was something I was born to obsess over and eventually try my hand at.
It falls much more closely in line with my secondary obsessions, like cooking. Working out, nutrition, fitness, health, and a generally "fit" aesthetic have always been a thing that I've been interested in and take care to focus on, but I've also never been a fitness NUT. It was more something I did to make myself feel better and to avoid people judging me for "being too skinny" as a kid or "getting fat" as a teenager.
Since I'm inherently adverse to cardio (both because of my busted knees and because I've just always had this thing where my heart wants to hop out of my chest anytime I run for more than two minutes), my workout of choice was almost always weightlifting, which meant that I was always going to go into my twenties building more muscle and strength, inherently bigger/bulkier. It didn't really register to me what that would mean for my 'look' until I started getting involved online with communities for powerlifting, strengthbuilding, and so on.
And at some point, more than a few little birdies made a suggestion. "Have you considered bodybuilding? You have the frame for it."
Such a thought hadn't really ever entered my mind before. It felt foreign and even disingenuous. Again, because of that preconceived notion of what a 'real bodybuilder' looks like — the closest ideation I had of bodybuilding was Arnold Schwarzenegger in his prime, and that weird scene between Triple H and Scott Steiner on Monday Night Raw where they had a ‘Flex-Off’ in the ring…But all the same, I kept those compliments in my back pocket and kept lifting.
But then, as I've discussed in other posts, came the Instagram era and the confidence to post my body on social media. Which certainly elicited plenty of reactions, but again, a common refrain was that I might find interest in bodybuilding as a sport, if indeed my body was struggling with things like heavy lifting or professional wrestling as I got older and wanted to try something less hazardous.
Y'all know I can't let something go once my curiosity gets the better of me. About 6 years ago, I did start looking for "natural bodybuilding competitions in Chicago" and came across a handful. All promised to test competitors for drugs, and offered a chance for first timers to step on stage and try their hand at bodybuilding, as well as a handful of other categories (there’s anywhere between 5 and 10 categories by gender, depending on the size of the show and the number of available judges.)
It piqued my interest, but general fear, anxiety, and a lack of confidence kept me from signing up when I was 27 and probably at my absolutely Fittest since high school.
Then the pandemic came, and the pandemic went. And I stayed in shape, but I was heavy. Much heavier than I was in my twenties. Healthy still, but bigger and bulkier. A higher body fat percentage to compliment bigger muscles, that just wouldn’t go away with any amount of cardio or dieting. This is no good for bodybuilding -- you want big muscles, yes, but you need to be LEAN. Defined. Chiseled. And that, I am not. Not by the standards of bodybuilders, anyway.
But the drive was still there. One year, I had told myself, I would lose enough weight and FEEL lean enough to put my ass on stage. Along with other my post-pandemic goals: directing a short film, recording an album, and train to be a professional wrestler, I committed to competing in a bodybuilding competition.
And finally, last weekend, I did it. Against all rationale and fear, I signed myself up for the Windy City Natural in Chicago and spent the better part of Saturday putting on different skimpy outfits and flexing on stage for a small crowd and a panel of judges.
It was electric. It was genuinely the most self-aggrandizing fun I've ever had.
To be clear, upfront, I did NOT do well.
I signed up for 3 categories -- Novice (first timers) Bodybuilding (the real skimpy trunks where you get to do whatever poses you want and they judge your muscle size and definition), Novice Classic (old school short square trunks where you hit the 6 classic poses a la Arnold Schwarzenegger and they judge you on leanness and pose accuracy), and Novice Physique (modern board shorts where you stand still and they just judge your general aesthetic). From there, the event organizer was kind enough to invite me to also compete in the Open (anyone of any level of experience) for Bodybuilding and Classic, if only for the exposure.
For all 3 categories, I also go to go up on stage solo and do a 60 second routine of my own creation.
And I got my ass kicked in pretty much everything!
I mean, I came home with 4 medals, which is very exciting and rewarding. But it's not like I really beat anybody to win those medals. They were just very few competitors in those categories.
And still, I can't help but look back at the day with anything but a huge smile on my face. It was simply a delightful experience full of positivity and connectivity that I wouldn't give up just to place a single spot higher in any category.
But I feel like the world of bodybuilding is so misunderstood; so undisclosed and so misconceived, that I kinda wanna walk everyone through what my experience was, from the time that I signed up to the day I competed.
Firstly, it needs to be pointed out that bodybuilding is inherently a selfish activity, through and through. Not only are you doing this for yourself and by yourself, but you also aren't really going to find any consistent sources or groups to rely on for how to proceed from point A to point Z. The whole art of bodybuilding is really about learning about your own body and how it reacts to certain diets, workouts, and routines. You won’t necessarily know where you fucked up until after the fact. (And boy, did I fuck up a LOT.)
I say this because once I figured out which competition I was going to sign up for, I felt kinda aimless. The show's website was certainly helpful in telling me what I NEEDED to get done prior to competing, but I wouldn't say it gave me a good sense as to WHY I needed to do it...How to set myself up for success and what to expect on the day of the show…
Membership Card:
I suppose it's not terribly surprising to hear this, but there are indeed 'federations' for different levels of bodybuilding, who oversee and authenticate the validity of an given competition. NANBF, IPE, UFE, etc. And regardless of which one you sign up for, you have to pay something like $100 a year in order to compete in any competition. And competitions WILL check to make sure you've paid one of these federations beforehand. I can’t say what else this membership offers. I don’t receive any emails, seminars, offers, or notifications for upcoming shows. It essentially just gives you a digital badge for checking in at whatever show you sign up for. And since most competitors are only doing ONE competition a year, it’s not like holding onto this membership after the show behooves anyone.
Competition and Categories:
Naturally, you need to sign up for the competition of your choice (make sure it’s 6 months away so you have time to prepare) and pay a fee (basically for the staff who will run the show on the day of) as well as pick the categories, each of which will come with their own separate price tag (reasons unclear). Since this was my first time and I had no idea which category would suit me best, I chose to sign up for all 3 of the major Men's categories — Bodybuilding, Physique, and Classic — and tried my best to do my research on what the judges were looking for on stage from each separate category...Which was overwhelming and ultimately a hindrance.
Clothing:
This is obviously dependent on the category you choose to sign up for. Bodybuilding requires very small trunks you can only get from specialty designers. Classic trunks can be found easily on Amazon or even from places like Speedo. Physique allows for pretty much any standard board shorts that aren't super baggy. But, as you may have guessed, finding clothing that will compliment and flatter your body on stage is already difficult enough, before taking into account inaccurate sizing, the changing of your body during prep, online shipping issues, returns/refunds, and trusting sources…It makes the whole process of acquiring your outfits a bit daunting. Case in point, the website for the competition I signed up for had a 'trusted' costumer to make everyone's stage outfits if they so chose. I contacted this person (by text only, which I found off-putting...) well ahead of time, saying I needed trunks for both Bodybuilding and Classic. While they did deliver the style and color I wanted, neither set fit me properly AT ALL despite sending them precise measurements. And they didn't do refunds or returns, or answer texts once the [expensive] products had been delivered. After going through 3 or 4 outfits for each category from different brands, I ended up just using generic brand trunks for all three categories I found online about 10 days before the show. This didn’t help with my posture and overall aesthetic, in some cases.
On Your Own:
Obviously competing in a bodybuilding show implies a great deal of working out. While I found multiple means of making this work at home during the pandemic, I knew I wouldn't be able to reach 'peak' bodybuilding status without going back to a gym, full time. So I signed myself up last summer for a gym that was within walking distance and was open 24 hours a day. (I like working out late at night. Less people, allows me to do supersets, and offers me time to flex in a mirror without bothering others). Along with this, once I signed up for the Windy City Natural (roughly late June/early July) for a competition in September, I had to significantly improve my diet. FAST. While I had been good about focusing on white meat only for some time, I had to cut out almost all carbs, fats, and sugars, and monitor my caloric intake much more closely. And yeah, you can snack while you're on a bodybuilding diet, but the snack options are LIMITED. And in case this wasn't already obvious, all of this added up to being some pretty expensive dietary habits over a single summer. And I started far too late — especially someone of my size and body fat percentage — I should have been started my hard diet back in March, if I had wanted any chance of placing well.
Coaching:
Coaches for bodybuilding appear to be a dime a dozen. There are genuinely more coaches advertised for bodybuilding than there are competitors, I swear. Motivation coaches, workout coaches, nutritionists, ‘accountability’ coaches, posing coaches, workout variation coaches, and so on. I opted to NOT look for a coach this time around, as they are both prohibitively expensive and also don’t have any means of proving to me they’re worth their price until I’ve already started paying for them. I tend to think I already have a good handle on my body’s capacity for exercise and dieting, and while I don’t doubt an expert in bodybuilding could’ve helped me achieve more, I also couldn’t justify the expense on top of the other costs involved with this competition. But it did seem that I was one of the very, VERY few people backstage who didn’t have a coach by their side all day. So it clearly is something that is standard and helps significantly.
Testing:
A few days before the competition, all competitors needed to meet at the hotel booked for out-of-towners. (Despite the show taking place in Lincoln Park in the city, the hotel was booked all the way out in Bensenville. Maybe because of its proximity to O’Hare, I’m not sure.) There, I paid $50 cash to a man who performed a polygraph test on me — essentially asking if I had taken steroids, P.E.D.'s, or diuretics in the last seven weeks. I'll say, this was one part of the process that was a bit of a letdown for me. A polygraph test in lieu of actual blood or urine testing (apparently they did perform substance tests on the winners after the show) and only limiting questions about your drug use to the last seven weeks felt like bending the rules a bit — at least in contrast with how the testing was advertised. And far be it for me to judge another performer, but I certainly would’ve clocked certain competitors that day as “definitely on the juice” if I had seen them anywhere else in the world.
Spray Tanning:
$150 upfront, and probably the single thing that most competitors worry about. Since I didn't know any better, I used the spray tanner provided by the competition and did as they told me. Stay moisturized. Get one base tan the day before the show, then a touch-up the morning of the show. In the first case, I stood (completely naked) in a small plastic pod and was sprayed with the same guns used to paint the exteriors of cars, turning myself a silly shade of orange. Obviously if you were competing in categories that involved more clothing, you didn't need to get naked. But the bodybuilding category offers so little ‘coverage’, that it would be painfully obvious if you DIDN'T get a certain part of your body sprayed. On the morning of the show, the same team did offer to spray tan anyone who needed touch-ups before they went on stage, usually with a darker shade of brown and a much shinier look. This can also easily backfire if you’re like me and naturally sweaty. The first coat the day before had time to sit overnight and bake into my skin. The second coat happened ten minutes before I went on stage, and was RUNNING down my skin like oil.
(Many of the pros had actually brought their own personal tanners with their own special concoctions backstage — and at least one told me he had slowly been getting layered up for WEEKS prior to the show…)
Photography:
There was a solo photographer at the show, who I presume was documenting everyone's time on stage, however I won't know for a few weeks after he's done editing everyone's photos and shares them -- or at least I hope. He did ask for $100 ahead of time for anyone who wanted their personal shots edited and shared…Luckily, my partner is a photographer and was backstage with me all day, so he was thoughtful enough to document my own personal journey on his professional camera! The biggest double-edged sword here is that, if you’re like me and not at 0% body fat on the day of the show, if you’re not directing your body to the correct camera (or judge) at the right angle in the right lighting, you’re gonna look terrrrrrrrrrible. Especially with a loose spray tan and a lack of a pump. Again, lessons to be learned!
Preparing for a bodybuilding show is maybe one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. And I've said that about many things — that recording my album was the most mentally draining experience, that 3 hours of pro wrestling training a day was the most exhausted I had ever been — but conditioning myself to basically feel like I’m starving constantly and then force myself into a gym for 2 hours (90 minutes of low weight, high rep workouts with no rests and then 30 minutes of posing practice) every single day is just a different kind of pressure. It became so all-encompassing that by the time the week of the competition came, I didn't really feel the usual anxiety I feel for everything else. I was strangely calm that entire week, either because I was completely deprived of energy a la carbs, or because I had spent all of my emotional bandwidth on the months leading up to the show.
It's also a hard thing for me to do, because it involves saying NO to a lot of stuff, socially. Way more than you think. I can't have that extra taco at my partner's family gathering -- especially if it's pork or beef. Or I can have some extra meat, but no tortillas or breads. Definitely no desserts of any kind. Only drink water, because most milks have fat and everything else has sugar. Alcohol pretty much goes out the window, but I allowed myself about 2 beers per weekend to keep my sanity. But they would still be the lightest lagers humanly available. No cheese because of the salt content. Rice has be carefully monitored due to carbohydrates. Anything that came from a restaurant had to be grilled, not fried, and use as little butter or salt as possible. Even olive oil contains more fat than you think.
I spent so much time this summer just reading the FDA packaging on every single thing at the grocery store, and then getting inevitably upset that virtually none of it was allowed on my diet.
That being said, I did get pretty skinny!
I went from close to 230 pounds last winter to almost 205 pounds last week! My waistline especially thinned out a bit, and my torso in general just got a lot leaner. And I can't tell you how good that made me feel.
Now, contextually, I was still not nearly lean enough for this competition. Everyone else on that stage was ALL veins. Every one of them was down to probably 2% body fat, with skin so tight around their muscles that you could see ever shred of definition. I was nowhere close to that lean. I probably would have had to lose another 10-20 pounds to reach that level.
There’s also an argument to be made that I screwed up some choices the week of the show — dehydrating myself and upping my carbs because the internet told me to…Which i think actually made my muscles look flatter and my waist bigger.
But I still felt great about MY progress and how I look compared to the old me.
And I had absolutely felt more muscular than ever. Between expanding my pallet of lifts that exercise parts of my body I had never focused on, as well as conditioning and calisthenic exercises meant to tighten other parts, AND learning poses on top of that, I finally managed to 'unlock' a lot of aspects of the bodybuilding aesthetic that I had never managed before. Wide lats, defined delts, and so on.
Most importantly, it created a certain confidence in me that I had never ever known before. It's one thing to post a picture from the gym. It's another to feel okay with showing your body on the beach or at a festival. It's a whole other sort of thing entirely to walk onto a stage in nothing but essentially a loincloth, in front of a group of strangers, and flex under spotlights coated in motor-oil. But I never felt like I didn't deserve it or that I couldn't do it. There was a strange sense of belonging and genuine merit when I got to finally compete on stage, regardless of the outcome.
Let's talk about the day before the competition…Arguably more important than the show day itself.
The entire week before a bodybuilding competition is considered vital: “Peak Week” they call it.
This is where the diet is meant to change a little. At least according to multiple sources on the internet (oy), you’re supposed to start slowly re-introducing carbs into your diet throughout the week, and have quite a lot of carbs the night before your competition, to ensure high energy and a “refilling” of your muscles.
You’re also, allegedly, suppose to fully dehydrate yourself the day before the show. Virtually zero water of any kind, as this will help tighten your skin and bring out the vascularity.
Since this penultimate day is also when I got my first spray tan, it meant I spent all day in loose fitting clothing and trying to avoid touching ANYTHING, so as to not stain it a sickly orange color. No workouts or stretching or any sudden movements.
Ultimately, the day before the show is more about rehearsing your posing routines and making sure you’ve memorized the names of every pose the judges may call out. Which became a real interesting game of Simon Says with myself that I can only compare to a sort of interpretive dance, or maybe a short pro wrestling sequence.
I didn’t get much sleep that night, no surprise. That never helps. The recovery muscles receive while sleeping will always result in a better looking physique.
I got up a little before 6 in the morning on the day of the show, to check on my tan (you have to sleep in your sweats and a pile of towels, waiting for the tan to fully set into your skin. You can’t shower until after the competition and you can’t treat your skin to prevent the alleged awful smell.)
I did yoga to stretch out, some light lifting for a ‘pump’, and kept working on my posing routine. I had a banana and an apple and some nuts — because I understood that eating breakfast before show might make me look bloated. In retrospect, there was enough time between when i got up and my first stage appearance that I probably could’ve treated myself to eggs at least…
Since I had gotten my partner a backstage pass, he joined me for the entirety of the experience. We arrived at the venue right when doors opened at 8 A.M. and found a desk at a changing room for me to start practicing and getting ready.
This is where I realized that bodybuilding shows are, generally, CHAOTIC.
Not to dismiss the hard work of everyone involved in putting on this show, but I quickly realized that this entire event was operating on the backs of 6 or 7 people. All of whom were putting up lighting rigs, rehearsing music queues, cleaning dressing rooms, setting up tanning pods, and acquiring dumbbells for competitors all at the same time, with only two hours before showtime.
And while two hours to prepare for a show sounds ample, let me assure that you it is NOT once backstage is filled with 50 men and women all trying to get spray tanned, lift weights, take off or put on clothes, and check the single piece of paper with the schedule of events for the day.
The morning was ultimately just a sheer blackout state of bedlam for me, where I can barely remember how the hell we got there and what all happened. I mostly just remember practicing all my poses in the mirror in the dressing room, using my resistance bands to hopefully get my veins to pop a bit (they didn’t, and that’s when I realized dehydration and starving myself was a BAD idea) and then sprinting to the tanning bed 10 minutes before my first appearance on stage — and in case you’re wondering if that’s enough time for another layer of spray tan to set in…IT IS NOT! The minute I put my hands on my hips for a lat-spread, that shit spread EVERYWHERE across my body.
First up was the Bodybuilding category.
The most nerve-wracking of the categories, if only because it’s the one that involves the least amount of clothing and is THE one that people ‘think’ of when they picture bodybuilding as a concept.
I remember not having a chance to do any pushups or work with my bands up on stage. I didn’t even have time to know what side of the stage we were on or what order we were going in. I just remember “Number 158? Yeah. You. Here. Go when they say your name.”
And then they had us, 3 novices, stand side by side in our tiny trunks and coated in dark brown liquid, and flex for the crowd. This lasted for about 7 minutes. “Turn to the right. Side chest pose. Face the wall. Back double bicep. Turn to the right.” And so on and so on. They have you switch places with other competitors so all the judges can get a chance to examine each competitor fairly from all angles.
I’ll say this, for how small the crowd was (I think. the stage lights were so bright that I couldn’t see anything except the front row of judges), they were certainly loud. A lot of them were coaches or family members of the other competitors, but to their credit, they were good about hooting and hollering for everyone on stage, which certainly made the experience easier. It didn’t feel like a competition so much as a rally for everyone brave enough to hop on stage.
At any rate, the three of us did the poses were asked to do and then showed off (picked our favorite poses or just got to show some charisma on stage once the pressure was off.) And just like that, in a few minutes, that segment was over.
Then I got asked to go back on stage for the Open level of bodybuilding — this is essentially the class for anyone of any experience, allowing Teens, Novice, Amateurs, and Pros to stand side by side. And so we did all the poses again, this time with 5 competitors, all of whom were much more seasoned and fittingly lean than myself.
Then we went off stage together, and were called back one by one. Each of us had 60 seconds to do our personalized routines — poses and flows of our own choice, almost like a dance. If you’ve seen Love Lies Bleeding, just picture the scene of Katy M. O’Brien at her bodybuilding show, sans vomit.
I will say, there was some level of shenaniganry going on with the personal routines, all day. The website was pretty clear about all Novices getting 60 seconds on stage, and not a second longer. We were even invited to send our own personal music for each — and I went the extra mile to edit my songs down to the specific 60 seconds I wanted, complete with fade ins and fade outs. But in retrospect, I feel like I had the shortest performances out of anyone, and all the other competitors were on stage for at least 90 or 120 seconds. Some performed for the entirety of a song. Either I missed a memo, or the rules weren’t as strict as I interpreted.
At any rate, I stepped out to do my solo Bodybuilding routine, set to Health’s “Hateful” opening beat, and feel like I nailed my 9 or 10 poses. They felt good and I felt like everything opened and flexed the way it was suppose to. To my understanding though, your solo routine doesn’t really play a factor in the judge’s scoring. The judges aren’t even watching you during that portion — it’s meant to entertain the crowd and let you show yourself off while the judges confer with one another and total up the scores.
Once the individual routines were finished, they went right into handing out placements and medals for the category. Which I was a bit thankful for, because I didn’t really wanna spend my whole day wondering where I would land in each separate category — especially given that my other 2 categories wouldn’t take place for at least another two or three hours.
And when I didn’t do well in Bodybuilding, I wasn’t surprise. I saw the other dudes on stage and knew they were leaner than me. That their muscles popped more and that their veins were visible from outer space.
Still, I think I nodded my head by accident. Or I made some kind of face. I didn’t mean to, but my partner clocked it and later told me “don’t wince. It makes it look like you’re mad at the judges or unprofessional. Just smile and wave.”
I wasn’t mad at the judges. The decision was objective and perfectly fair. I think I just knew the placement before it happened, and my gut reaction was to say “yeah, that’s what I expected. Well played, judges.” Still, it probably looked unprofessional on my part regardless. Lessons to be learned.
I was a bit down on myself, make no mistake. I can’t help but place a lot of expectations and pressure on myself in a situation like this. I had gone into this competition with 0 understanding of what was going on or how I would fare compared to the others. And I knew that morning backstage that I wasn’t gonna kill the competition when I saw my body fat percentage compared to the others. But still, what’s the point in trying at all if I don’t at least pretend like I have a chance of winning? So I think a part of me probably did get upset that I didn’t do well. At least for a bit.
There was a long gap in between the Men’s Bodybuilding category in the morning and the Classic and Physique categories of the afternoon. Several of the Women’s categories, the Teen’s, the Transformation awards and the Honorary Awards…
Unfortunately, because of the pacing and sheer mania of backstage, I didn’t get to do what I should have done, which is spend more time behind the curtain, watching all the pros and taking notes on how to improve.
Instead, I got wrapped up in the dressing rooms, talking to other competitors (who did give me a lot of great advice!) and working on my pump for subsequent categories. Which isn’t a BAD way to spend time in between performances, but it also felt like I really missed out on a large portion of what the Windy City Natural offered, because I was too busy bouncing from room to room — also nagging the spray tanners to give me another touch up before my next category.
Which became a whole mess in and of itself.
Not to get too in the weeds [too late] but the Physique category, which would require long board shorts, took place directly before the Classic category, which required the smaller square trunks.
Now, how the fuck do you get a spray tan, put on board shorts, then strip down to trunks, without fucking up the tan?
Ultimately there’s no real good solution to this, but what was decided was to wear both the trunks and then the board shorts over them, and just be really careful about removing the shorts in between categories to avoid damaging the spray tan. Which solves one problem, but also creates another in that the Classic trunks constrict my hips in a way that definitely doesn’t help my V-tapered shape when it comes to Physique (the one thing the judges are looking for.)
It needs to also be pointed that, while this show was moving by at lightning speed, we were still running late. Either because of how many people needed touch-up spray tans or because of how many competitors had longer solo routines than planned, the show was about 45 minutes late at this point, which meant the organizers were on top of us, begging us to get tan faster and get on stage ASAP.
So it goes.
The Physique competition was by far my least favorite. Partly because it doesn’t really involve any posing or flexing. Partly because it relies solely on your natural look, and I don’t look particularly fit if I’m not actively flexing. Partly because it honestly is just the least impressive looking of the categories. It’s just lean dudes in board shorts just putting their hands on their hips. It feels much more like a pageant than the other categories.
Judges are essentially looking for that “V Shape” with this one, with skinny hips and wide shoulders. I had the wide shoulders part nailed, but unfortunately my hips and lower torso in general are NOT slim. Like I said, I had lost a LOT of weight around there compared to where I was before, but I still did not meet the criteria in comparison to most others on that stage.
I also hated the solo routines for this one. The website for the competition had listed it as a simple “T Walk,” implying that we just walk from the back of the stage and hit the front, left, and right briefly a la Drag Race. It said “one pose in each position, please.” It sounded so brief and straightforward.
But then I watched everyone else perform their routines first, and everyone hits at least 5 or 6 poses in each position! Some of these routines go on for the duration of a full song, and the guys are doing full blown Bodybuilding and Classic poses…What are these rules here?!
So I walk out to “Genesis” by Justice, and basically have to now adlib a ton of extra posing in ill-fitted trunks in a category that I’ve already decided I don’t care for. It went fine, I guess. I filled the time and didn’t panic and made it look like I knew what I was doing.
I didn’t even place for this category, and it really didn’t bother me. Good riddance to a bad fit.
Immediately thereafter, I had to strip off my board shorts and go straight into the side by side comparisons for Classic. This one is a bit more straightforward, as the judges will call out the same 6 poses over and over and just move you around so all the judges can see all the competitors flexing the same parts. You’ve seen these before if you’ve ever seen a bodybuilding documentary or clips of Arnold. It’s the standard poses that everyone does when they think of ‘flexing’.
I had gone into this whole show thinking Classic would be where I did best. Either because those 6 poses were the ones that came the most natural to me, or because I thought those trunks fit me best, or whatever. But it kinda panned out the same as Bodybuilding. I did get invited to do the Open level for that one immediately after the Novices, which was helpful in keeping my confident in my stage presence, at least.
If you’re keeping track, this was my FIFTH side by side group comparison for the day, and I was about to do my THIRD solo routine. So that’s flexing EIGHT times in one day, sometimes for ten minutes. To say my back and shoulders and thighs were aching is an understatement — especially having no water for 36 hours or food for 12. Honestly, even today, my back still feels sore from it.
My solo routine for this one was set to “Breathe” by the Prodigy and it was probably the routine I was most proud of. I had really thought this one through and it almost felt like a story being told through bulky, interpretive dance, where every pose was nailed perfectly on the downbeat of the song. So at least I wrapped up the day on a high note.
I was done with my portion of the show by about 2 P.M. And then all I wanted to do was sit in the dressing room (finally, I hadn’t been able to sit down since getting my touch-up) and drink a gallon of water. So I missed the rest of the show, which again feels like a shame on my part. I could’ve learned so much more if I had more free time to sit in the crowd and observe.
My partner helped me get back into my loose fitting sweaters and clean up. He did the best thing imaginable which was continue to hype me up and maintain my confidence, knowing full well that I was probably a bit bummed with the results.
All the organizers and event staff were incredibly complimentary and cordial, and we made our way upstairs to where the fans and judges were getting ready to leave.
One of the cooler things that I didn’t expect to happen was that the judges stayed afterwards — and then offered to meet at a brunch spot down the street from the venue. All the while, they had very open and honest conversations with any competitors who were willing to ask about their critiques. (There were surprisingly very, very few competitors that chose to stick around and listen. Like, we all paid a stupid amount of money and spent a LOT of time and energy to get here, and the judges are the ones who can build us up or tear us down. Why wouldn’t you want their opinion?)
Not that I really needed to be told what was holding me back all day — I knew the answer long ago, but it was worth making connections with the judges (all previous competitors and winners themselves) and to hear the commentary from an official source.
LOSE. MORE. WEIGHT. Get lean. Really hone in on the diet and drop those last 10 pounds to get more visible definition.
I got a surprising number of compliments — great muscle size, obvious definition despite the bulk, I nailed most of the poses…It was just those lingering few percentage points of body fat that made me visibly less lean than the others and what killed me in the scoring.
And that’s okay! At least it was totally something I saw coming and something that I can absolutely control and fix for next time.
Start dieting 6 months ahead of time, not 3, be even stricter about calories and carbs. No booze.
Another really fun and consistent compliment I got was that I had the best STAGE PRESENCE of anyone, novice, amateur, or pro, all day. They said I was infectiously happy on stage and it made everyone react accordingly. So that was neat.
I told them about my dehydration and carb-loading the week of, and they all unanimously said that was bad information invented by the internet. So the next point of criticism I got was not having a coach…That having an experienced voice in my ear at all times would’ve probably saved me a lot of heartache and agony so I didn’t have to rely on strangers from the internet for bad intel.
Having now been through the ringer once, I also have a way better idea of what to expect and how to handle the morning of the show. Looking back, I’m very bummed that my stage look doesn’t match my gym look. And a lot of that comes down to being bloated in the morning (regardless of diet), not having a ‘pump’, being dehydrated, nerves probably fucking up my posing and posture, a poorly applied tan (my fault, not the tanners), and so on. I rushed myself on stage because of the hype of the moment and did NOT have my best body ready to go, like it is at the end of a long workout (at 11 PM rather than 11 AM at that.) So next time I would have a much better plan to have a light workout in the morning and breakfast, and really make sure everything was tightened up before I stepped on stage. I’m kinda dreading going through the photos and videos from the event photographer, if only because I worry what I presented on stage isn’t the body I saw in the mirror for the last few weeks.
The last big piece of advice I got was to NOT do ALL THREE major categories next time. This was already something I had decided on myself — not having a great time doing Physique — but I was a little surprised to hear the judges say that Classic wasn’t my best performance. Bodybuilding was.
One judge even went so far as to say my leg muscles were so big and well defined that they were on level with the Pros. If I could just get my upper body to that level and then really lean out next time, I’d be golden in Bodybuilding.
So that was exciting!
I also wouldn’t mind only doing one category next time because it would allow me the freedom to enjoy the rest of the show without stress or hurry. Having the time to watch other competitors and cheer for them would’ve been a lot more rewarding than bouncing between outfits and spray tans constantly.
Overall, the judges’ comments were all well-merited, insightful, accurate, and frankly, really endearing! Weirdly, it kinda reminded me of what I wish I could get out of my writing career — brutal honesty and a sincerity that would help me really focus on what needs to be fixed to make me better.
Dear literary agents, be more like bodybuilding judges!
Also, most importantly, with the show over and my dieting complete, I got to have chicken and waffles for brunch. And that’s what really matters.
The comedown since the show has been fascinating, for lack of a better word.
You would think I’d wanna stuff my face. To gorge myself on the fattiest, sweetest meals possible and to never look at a gym again. And that’s kinda sort of what I’ve been doing, but frankly not to the extent I imagined. The night after the show, I wanted to chug as much beer as possible and order straight up junk food, but I ended up only having the stomach for a little red wine and a single quesadilla. My partner took me out to a Japanese steakhouse and ice cream on Sunday, and I felt like I was gonna die after a handful of bites — the first red meats and sugars I had eaten in months.
Even now, I’m letting myself get back into saltier food (grilled chicken sandwiches mostly) but I can’t find the appetite for more than a meal and a half’s worth of calories throughout a whole day. I don’t even get the late night snack cravings like before.
The spray tan is fading — oh so very slowly. It’s cracking and blistering like a sunburn, and slowly dissipating each time I shower. But honestly, not as much as you’d think. I’m still uncomfortably orange out in public. Which makes for a fun story, if nothing else.
I actually haven’t gone back to the gym yet this week. I did grant myself that much. But I also have been kinda moping around because I got a Covid vaccination booster on Monday and felt terrible afterwards, so that’s been a convenient excuse. But I’m itching for it. I didn’t get the urge to abandon the gym for long. I’m already planning my next phase of workout splits and long term goals.
Ultimately though, I don’t feel like I’m done with bodybuilding. I didn’t finish on Saturday and think “well, that’s done and over! Time to go back to being a pig.”
After I recorded my album and wrapped up my short film shoot, I kinda said I was ‘done’ with music and film. Maybe not forever, but for a good long while. Bodybuilding didn’t feel like that. I didn’t say “okay, I did it once! Glad that’s over.”
I came out of thinking “that was really fun and informative, but now I wanna try it again. Leaner and readier for the way these shows operate.”
Which is definitely not how I thought I’d feel afterwards.
And that’s the gist of it. Apologies for the lack of prose this week. I’ve just been trying to jot down every thought I had from the show and the preparation leading into it. It’s been such a wild, wonderful, encouraging, albeit difficult, blur.
But overall it was such a genuine experience to have and to share with others. To meet so many great folks and to receive so much feedback and good advice. To feel both validated and challenged. To see myself in a different light than before and come out of it with both confidence and motivation.
Again, bodybuilding isn’t a thing I’ve ever explicitly had a desire to do. It was more of a thing that was thrust upon me a while ago, and that I’ve always had lingering the back of my mind as a possibility.
And I feel very rewarded to know that the possibility is still always there.